


through seasons, through letters, to you

by Lollipop_Panda



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Related, Floof, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Time Skips, writing letters, writing scripts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollipop_Panda/pseuds/Lollipop_Panda
Summary: Mizuno Kaya writes letters, Minagi Tsuzuru writes scripts.They finally meet somewhere in the middle.
Relationships: Minagi Tsuzuru/Mizuno Kaya
Comments: 31
Kudos: 99
Collections: A3! Rare Pairs Week 2020





	through seasons, through letters, to you

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of the rarepair week! I can't believe this is a rarepair but also am pleased it's a rarepair since this happened. 
> 
> I kept purposely vague about all the scripts Tsuzuru writes, since I didn't want to spoil anyone (myself included haha), and in case it's not quite clear, the letters are from the past and catching up to the present. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Tsuzuru’s fingers pause atop his keyboard as he takes a moment to think, to sort through the jumbled thoughts and images in his mind that he wants to put into words, feed onto the blank page staring back at him.

He leans back and rubs at his tired eyes, takes a sip of his long-cold coffee, and reads over his notes for what is surely the hundredth time.

They stare innocently back at him in his own messy and hurried scrawl, taken in an inspiration driven frenzy as he struggled to get everything onto the page before the right words escaped him once more, and drags his hand down his face.

He’s reached the climax of the play for Autumn’s next performance and his notes read simply enough: _‘they mEet again emotoins run hi.’_

Tsuzuru forces down a scowl at his past-self, who had obviously trusted his current-self to find several pages of dialogue and gestures from that line alone.

“Thanks…” he mutters as he looks back at the script on his laptop, cursor blinking in a slow hypnotizing rhythm that he finds soothing more often than not.

Scrolling back up and re-reading his last few lines, Tsuzuru cements within himself the idea that he wants to convey something fast paced and almost dizzying, all while being careful to make sure the audience understands what’s happening.

This is so hard. Writing is so hard. But it’s also fun and rewarding and nothing short of incredible to see his own words brought to life on stage for so many people to see.

Self-doubt suddenly gnaws at his mind and Tsuzuru immediately pulls his desk drawer open, takes out the letters hidden there and steps out of his and Masumi’s shared room before going to situate himself on the balcony, his coffee sitting forgotten and cold on his desk, next to the open screen of his laptop, the cursor blinking, slow and hypnotizing.

༺═─────────────═༻

_Dear Tsuzuru,_

_You really outdid yourself this time. I know I say this every time, but it’s still true. I was laughing so hard I’ll probably have muscle aches tomorrow! The Summer Troupe looks so lively and fun on stage, I wonder if they’re like that off of it too? Sakisaka-kun looks so confident, I’m kind of envious._

_I have to keep it short this time, I’m sorry, I’m writing this just before a meeting, which isn’t very professional, but I wanted to write you as soon as possible. I hope I’ll be able to see the next closing night performance, I barely got tickets this time._

_I know it’s not supposed to be a big deal, and I could see any of the performances in between, but I enjoy going to one of your early performances and then getting to go to closing night too. There’s something special about it, about seeing the experience from every other performance brought into that final one._

_I hope you are well, resting, and staying hydrated._

_Yours,_

_Your biggest fan_

༺═─────────────═༻

“Tsuzuru-san!” said man turns at the call of his name and looks to Taichi who is bouncing down the street towards him, still in his school uniform, Tenma and Juza trailing along not far behind, “I wanted to talk to you about the script-su!” the redhead chirps, all doe-eyed and excited, and Tsuzuru smiles at him and nods.

“Sure,” he agrees, opening the front door and letting Taichi go first, leaving it open behind him for the other two, he slips his shoes off and starts towards the common room, “What did you want to talk about?” he moves into the kitchen now, Taichi following and going to grab four glasses from the cupboard.

“Ah! Well, we’ve started practice, and even though they worked during the readings, I’m having trouble conveying some of my lines properly, I was hoping we could work on them together and see what’s missing-su!”

Tsuzuru nods and picks the water pitcher up, pouring the liquid into the glasses as they’re placed in front of him, handing one to Taichi, followed by two others to Tenma and Juza who have finally caught up with them. He picks up his own glass, takes a long gulp, and moves back into the common room, seating himself on one of the couches.

“Yeah we can do that, did you want to do it later? Or if you want I have some time right no- Okay then…” he smiles a little awkwardly as Taichi jumps up and rushes off, presumably to get his script.

༺═─────────────═༻

_Dear Tsuzuru,_

_Way to break my heart! The Winter Troupe is very good at tugging on heartstrings: Even though I knew what was coming it still hurt. That just goes to show how well thought-out the script is and how great the actors are at conveying it though, doesn’t it?_

_I must thank you again for getting Tachibana-san to send me another closing performance ticket, you really don’t have to, but it is incredibly appreciated nonetheless. It just makes everything even more special._

_I look forward to the Mankai shows more than anything now, they’re like my own escape from the world, and bring back many fond memories of when I would watch you write. I’m not being very secretive about my identity any more am I? I suppose it’s fine though, it’s not like you don’t know who I am anyway, although I think I found solace in the anonymity of it in that very first letter I wrote to you._

_As always, I hope you are well and keeping yourself rested._

_I look forward to seeing the Spring’s next performance, watching you on stage is always a pleasure._

_Yours,_

_Your biggest fan_

_P.S. You should consider writing a romantic comedy, as a means to apologize for breaking my heart with this show_

༺═─────────────═༻

Opening night goes smoothly, Taichi’s reworked lines fitting much better now, and Tsuzuru is filled with gratitude as he’s reminded yet again of the amount of trust everyone has in him; that they let him write entire scripts and, instead of nitpicking or trying to keep difficult parts, come to him for help to make them run smoother.

Tsuzuru watches from the wings as the play unfolds, his characters and their story brought to life by the talented Autumn Troupe, the action scene coming across as dizzyingly as he’d hoped.

Finally, after almost two hours packed full of action and emotions, the Autumn members exit the stage, each wearing a sheen of sweat that speaks volumes of how hard they had worked tonight, all those hours of practice coming together for this first performance and all the others to come.

Leaving the actors to go to the changing room, Tsuzuru hangs back and watches the stage, and wonders what the audience garnered from tonight’s show, can’t help but hope they enjoyed themselves enough to want to come back.

He tries not to think of someone specific and what he’ll think of the show.

With a final smile to the stage, Tsuzuru turns around and returns to the dorms, knowing he’ll be getting flowers and a letter some time soon.

༺═─────────────═༻

_Dear Tsuzuru,_

_I can’t believe you actually wrote a romantic comedy. Was it because of what I said? Or had you planned it all along I wonder? I will likely never find out._

_I’m writing this first paragraph just after opening night, and I was in stitches most of the time, I can’t wait to see how Summer performs on closing night, I know it’ll be an absolute treat. Thank you for yet another closing night ticket, they’re treasured more than you’ll ever know._

_ೋღ_

_I laughed just as much tonight as I did on opening night, truly, this company has a gift: a great writer combined with amazing actors. You all make sure nothing feels stale and that every show is the best we could see and I admire that so much._

_I look forward to what you bring to ~~me~~ us for Autumn’s next performance. _

_Do make sure you stay hydrated and rested though._

_All the best to you ~~and the~~ and the rest of the company. _

_Yours,_

_Your biggest fan, Mizuno K_

༺═─────────────═༻

Tsuzuru drums his fingers against his desk, knee bouncing as he stares at his laptop screen. This goes on for another few minutes before he sighs and rubs his face tiredly, minimizing the document containing Winter’s next play before he opens the one beneath it in his writing folder, the already completed Spring script appearing and staring back at him.

With another heavy sigh and a smile, Tsuzuru allows himself to re-read the last scene for the thousandth time before returning to his previous task with a renewed energy.

For once, his desk is clear, he hasn’t had a coffee yet -cold or not- and his notes are all piled neatly together to avoid covering the envelope that rests next to him; all the energy and motivation he needs to keep writing whenever inspiration escapes him.

Words flow out of him then, easy and smooth, anticipation rolling through him and a smile tugging at his lips as he wonders just what the next letter will have to say.

A bouquet of dandelions sits proudly in the vase that lives permanently on the corner of his desk, watching over him.

༺═─────────────═༻

_Tsuzuru,_

_These letters make me so bold, it feels like if you can’t see me, then my words might not actually be reaching you, and as silly as that is, it gives me a boost in confidence, to tell you things I might not ever have the courage to say to you, even if we were to meet again._

_Though I can’t help but hope that might happen soon, meeting you. I’m not sure why I’m still punishing myself and you at this point, but I feel like something is missing still, that I need a final piece before I can make myself look you in the eyes and talk to you without hiding behind these letters._

_Enough of me rambling senselessly. On to the show._

_I do so enjoy how you weave Autumn’s plays together. The action scenes are marvellous, and this one was so fast-paced it was dizzying, and yet somehow no detail escaped me. Granted, on my first watch I was left reeling, but that’s the beauty of theatre isn’t it? Gleaning more and more, finding a new detail with every viewing._

_I don’t know if I’ve told you this already, but with every show, I can feel the love that’s put into it. From how you leave out no details as a writer, all the way to the emotions the actors pour out every time. It must be exhausting for all of you, and yet you do it again and again for an audience who loves you for it._

_Congratulations, you’ve come so far, and I my admiration for you knows no bounds._

_I hope you are well. Stay healthy and do make sure to drink enough water._

_Yours,_

_Your biggest fan, Mizuno Kaya_

༺═─────────────═༻

Time seems to go by too fast and too slow for Tsuzuru, who hands over the script for Winter’s next play to Izumi and smiles at her approving gaze.

Practice begins, lines are re-worked, difficulties are overcome, costumes are fitted. Everything crawls at a snails pace while the finished Spring script sits on his desk, waiting for it’s turn.

Next thing he knows though, Tsuzuru is staring at the stage from the wings as the Winter Troupe bows low and thanks the audience for coming to their final performance.

Hand shaking, Tsuzuru knocks on Izumi’s door the next day.

“Tsuzuru? What did you need?” Izumi asks him, looking concerned. Tsuzuru supposes it’s only fair; he didn’t get much sleep last night and must look a mess for it, “I haven’t checked the fan-mail yet,” she adds, assuming that’s why Tsuzuru is here - she wouldn’t be wrong, and Tsuzuru wonders how eager he must look whenever she hands him a new letter.

With a shake of his head, Tsuzuru remembers what he’s actually here for, and puffs out his chest, holding out the script that has been on his desk for weeks now, right next to the letter that had inspired it, and bows his head.

“I have a selfish request to make.”

_༺═─────────────═༻_

_Dearest Tsuzuru,_

_Why do you insist on hurting me so? As usual, your talent as a writer speaks volumes, for I cannot even wait until closing night to send this to you._

_My heart aches. I feel like I could see myself in the main character, yearning for something for so long, and never attaining it due to my own childishness, choosing to punish ~~myself and the one I~~ ~~myself an d yo~~ myself over a promise I made so long ago as a child that I could not have hoped to keep when decisions were made that I had no power to change. _

_Is that it? Is this a message to me, telling me to stop clinging to the past and meet you in the present?_

_But I am so afraid Tsuzuru, what if I’m not who you think I am any more? I would be devastated if you were to find out I do not meet your expectations and you were to turn me away for it._

_You’re incredible and this play resonates within me like no other before it._

_Maybe I am being naive in hoping you meant it as a message to me, but somehow I always feel like you are talking directly to me through your scripts._

_Almost as if you’re answering these letters of mine._

_I am a foolish man, Tsuzuru, and yet, I will forever remain your biggest fan._

_Do stay healthy, I’m a little embarrassed over this letter and it’s contents, but I promised myself I would send them just the way they are, errors and corrections included, my honest impressions on the moment are the least you deserve after all my selfishness._

_I cannot wait to see you on stage once more._

_I want to meet you again one day._

_~~ Forever yours, ~~ _

_Yours, ~~alwa~~_

_Mizuno Kaya, your biggest fan_

_P.S. please ignore my messy writing._

_༺═─────────────═༻_

The audience is a quiet hum inside the theatre, reaching all the way to the wings, and Tsuzuru closes his eyes to listen to it. He still can’t quite believe his troupe-mates had agreed to his selfish request, but here he stands, in costume on opening night, the lead to the play he had written in the hopes of finally breeching that final gap that separated him and a boy from his past who has taken to sending him letters.

There are butterflies from his stomach all the way into his chest where the stuttering beat of his heart is born from a lot more than simple jitters. It feels like he’s putting a lot on the line here, so much more than just a script that has a part of himself in it.

No, this time, Tsuzuru is putting himself on stage, front and centre, bare for all to see if they think to look close enough, and he’s doing it all for one person.

A person who might not even be here tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after, and Tsuzuru will have to put himself out there again and again, unsure of why he’s even doing it any more, in the hopes that this single person will see him and understand him like he always does.

How had he ever thought this would be a good idea?

It’s too late now though, the script is written and full of minor revisions, practice is behind them, the Spring Troupe members have donned their costumes - simple and futuristic this time - and they’re huddling for a final moment together before they put on the first performance of a show that will last for the next week, all the way into closing night.

A loud buzz resonates through the space as the lights dim and the crowd hushes into attentive silence. Tsuzuru takes a deep breath and walks onto the stage, gets into position and waits for the curtain to rise.

A single spotlight illuminates his figure as he reaches out to the audience, unable to see any of their faces but anticipation filling him nonetheless. Minagi Tsuzuru is now Hifumi Leo, full of hope for the future as he opens his mouth to let his lines pour out, wishing for his words to reach the person they’re meant for, the one who left him all those years ago with an unfulfilled promise that had never truly mattered.

Hifumi Leo is a young man who searches for someone he’s lost, who meets friends along the way but never loses sight of his goal. He finds himself during their travels, as well as a mysterious letter that guides him along a path that helps him grow and grow and grow, and he wants nothing more than to find the friend he lost all those years ago, to show him who he’s now become.

“Distance may separate us, but our hearts will always be connected,” Leo says with feeling, clutching at his chest as he takes a step forward in order to rebuke the disdainful comment from the shadow that has materialized before him.

“I know that wherever we are, it doesn’t matter! My heart will be my guiding key! We’ll find each other again! Just you wait!” he yells, bolstered by the friends at his side.

And later, much later, when Leo’s newly found family awaits him in the restaurant they’ve stopped at, just as he’s about to step inside and join them, Leo starts in surprise and turns towards the street -towards the audience- and smiles brightly, tears welling in his eyes.

“I knew we’d meet again,” Tsuzuru whispers.

He holds his hand out and takes a step forward as the stage dims into darkness.

The curtain falls, the room erupts into tumultuous applause, but Tsuzuru can think of nothing else than the hammering of his heart and the shaking of his legs as he stumbles his way off the stage and sits down heavily in the wings.

His adopted family gather around him and hold him close and encourage him and offer him every word of praise that comes to mind (“It’s ‘great’ not ‘freight’, Citron.” Itaru corrects fondly). With that, their opening night is over, and they shuffle into the changing room, Tsuzuru still shaking, exhausted and reeling and trying not to think of the person who inspires him, afraid of letting hope swell in his heart when the one person this play was truly meant for might not have even been here tonight.

The thought becomes a lot harder to ignore and push away when Izumi knocks on the door and enters, a single dandelion in her hand.

Tsuzuru’s world feels like it slows as he watches their director approach him and hand him the flower with a smile on her lips.

“I’m glad we could let you be selfish,” Izumi tells him as Tsuzuru takes the flower like it’s the most precious thing in the universe, “He’s waiting for you in the lobby. I’d hurry if I were you, he looks about ready to run.”

Tsuzuru is out the door before Izumi finishes, barely hearing the loud cheers following him, gripping the dandelion to his chest as he runs like he’s never run before, clothed in nothing but too-big jeans and a thin t-shirt.

Grinding to a halt at his destination, Tsuzuru’s chest heaves as his lungs beg for air. The last few stragglers in the lobby give him odd looks, but Tsuzuru couldn’t care less, especially not when his eyes land on a man in a navy suit, fidgeting as he holds onto a bouquet of dandelions, almost hiding behind it while he refuses to look in the playwright’s direction as they meet in the middle of the hall.

“M-maybe I’m assuming things,” Mizuno stutters out, still not looking up, and Tsuzuru’s already struggling heart skips a beat, “But I feel like you were talking directly t-to me in this play…”

Tsuzuru doesn’t get to do more than open his mouth to respond before the bouquet is being shoved against his chest and it’s all he can do not to stumble from the shock of it as he automatically reaches up to keep hold of the flowers, and then Mizuno is talking again.

“Even! Even if you weren’t it’s fine, because I’m done being childish, I’m ready to face you again and I want- I want to talk to you again and this is probably selfish after all I put you through but I really thought you wanted to talk to me too and-” Mizuno cuts himself off, “Here!” He shouts and shoves something else at Tsuzuru who barely manages to take it, bewildered.

It’s a letter, and both of them stare at it as Mizuno keeps talking.

“This will be my last letter to you, because I’ve decided that I want to tell you everything face to face from now on, if you’ll let me, that is and- _Tsuzuru!?_ ”

Mizuno squeaks as Tsuzuru takes a step forward, unable to use his arms, too full of flowers and a letter, but he can use the rest of his body, and becoming an actor has helped him learn so much about body language that all he does is lean down those precious few centimetres so that they’re eye level and gives Mizuno a meaningful stare.

“Next time you leave, please keep in touch,” he murmurs, watches as Mizuno’s eyes go impossibly wide.

“I’m never leaving again,” he assures, and Tsuzuru sags in relief, smile pulling his lips up softly.

“Good,” the word escapes him in a breath as he leans forward some more, enough that he can rest his forehead against Kaya’s shoulder, “I missed you,” he adds, feeling his childhood friend grip onto his shirt, the warmth of him seeping through the thin material,

“Can I be selfish, just one last time?” Kaya whispers, and Tsuzuru can feel the way his lips brush his hair. It makes everything worth it, every risk and every drop of sweat lost during practice, every jittery nerve that had filled him before the show, every single thing is worth it for this moment as he chuckles quietly.

“Go ahead, this entire play is a show of my own selfishness.”

The grip on his shirt loosens into something less desperate and more relaxed as Kaya lets out a breath of laughter.

“Then, would you be mine?” question asked, Kaya’s shoulders tense under Tsuzuru’s forehead as he continues, “I know this may be out of the blue, but watching all your plays has made me feel like we were still connected, and my feelings for you have never really gone away. And there’s a lot of hurdles to overcome but I think we could make it work…”

Tsuzuru waits for a moment when Kaya trails off, just in case he’s not done, but when it’s clear he is, he finally pulls away and looks him in the eyes, cheeks flushed and heart pounding.

“Only if you’ll be mine too,” is his answer, and he watches as the boy who broke a child’s promise, now a man making another, smiles brightly, cheeks colouring in answer to Tsuzuru’s.

“Tsuzuru,” he starts, fond and almost exasperated, “I was always yours.”

Tonight happened because Tsuzuru had let himself be selfish. More than he’s probably ever been, and with a grin, he allows himself a final moment of selfishness as he leans in to capture Kaya’s lips.

Standing there in the middle of the lobby of his new home in nothing but a thin t-shirt and jeans that are fighting to stay on his hips, arms full of flowers and a letter, his new found family likely spying on them from somewhere, Tsuzuru kisses Kaya, and Kaya kisses back.

༺═─────────────═༻

_Tsuzuru,_

_I have nothing more to say, other than this will be my last letter to you._

_I hope I will have the guts to see you tonight, and tell you how I feel, but in the that case I don’t :_

_I’m in love with you._

_Forever yours,_

_Kaya_

_༺═─────────────═༻_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/PocketoPanda) and always up to talk about them


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